


JonElias One-shots

by orphan_account



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Trans Martin Blackwood, as a treat, he's just a creepy dude, i said not That creepy, its still there, just a little, martin is trans and peter's not that creepy about it, peter has a hint of beholding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26689588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Just a collection of JonElias (and maybe others in the future) one-shots.***please read the beginning notes***yes i am a firm believer in that all of the original archive crew is trans and i will die on this hill.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood & Peter Lukas
Kudos: 10





	1. jon comes out to elias

**Author's Note:**

> trans jon comes out to elias. right at the start of season one or maybe pre-canon i'm not sure. also elias says trans rights.

Jon walked up the stairs slowly for one, well, two reasons. The first was that his knee was bothering him and it had been for three days straight. The second was that he was not looking forward to the conversation he was about to have with his boss, Elias Bouchard. Jon had been thinking about how to have it for years, if he was being honest. And now, it was about to happen. His first thought when he walked into Mr. Bouchard’s office was ‘don’t fuck this up for yourself’.

Elias looked up from his computer and smiled when he saw Jon. “Ah, Ms. Sims, please, take a seat.” Jon did. “What brings you into my office today?” Jon thought about how to approach the situation. 

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about, sir.” Jon took a step closer, trying to gather what courage he had. Elias gave him a puzzled look.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” Jon took a deep breath.

“My name, sir. I’m changing it.” Jon said. There, the hardest part was over, the thought to himself, smooth sailing from now on.

“Oh, you’re getting married? Congratulations, Ms. Sims. Who’s the lucky person?” Elias smiled his warm smile at Jon.

“What? No, I’m not getting married, Mr. Bouchard.” Now Elias looked even more confused. “I, uh… I’m trans.” Jon blurted out. Elias looked at him with a blank look in his eyes. Jon stood up and turned to leave. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll take my leave now.” Jon walked calmly to the door as tears welled up in his eyes. Just as his hand grasped around the door handle, a hand fell on his shoulder. Jon whirled around to see Elias not a foot away from him. They looked at each other for a moment, too close for coworkers to be and the only thing Jon could think of was how soft Elias’s lips looked and how soft they would feel if he leaned forward and closed the gap between them. The thought was quickly stomped away when Elias stepped back and cleared his throat.

“Don’t go. Just, sit down and we’ll sort this out.” Jon nodded slowly and the hand was removed from his shoulder as they both walked back to their respective seats. “Right,” Elias started, as he typed away at his computer. “Now, what is the name you’re going to be called?"

“Jonathan. Jon for short.” Elias’s eyes flicked from the computer to Jon and back. He typed some more.

“Jon. Jonathan. Jonathan.” Elias said, testing out the name. “Yes, I think that it suits you quite well.” He smiled and Jon smiled back. “And pronouns?” Elias looked back to Jon, his hands hovering over his keyboard.

“He/him.” Elias typed some more, before leaning back in his chair and turning to face Jon. “Right, I think we’ve gotten all that sorted out. I just want to know Jon, we do not condone any kind of transphobia here at the Institute, so you’ll let me know if any problems arise, won’t you?”

Jon nodded. “Yes, sir, thank you.”

“Of course. Is there anything else I can help you with today?” Elias asked. There was one thing but it was quite unprofessional.

“I’m not sure.” Jon started. If he was doing this, he was doing it right now.

“Oh?” Elias gave him that look. The look that Jon had fallen for in the first place. It was cocky, a smirk, and his eyebrows were raised. Jon stood up and walked around the side of Elias’s desk. Elias had a somewhat confused look, like he didn’t exactly know where this was going but he wasn’t going to stop it if it was what was running through his head. Elias stood up to match Jon’s height as he came around the corner of the desk.

“There is one thing, sir.” Jon said, coming almost as close as they had been by the door.

“And what might that be, Jon?” Elias asked, looking smug as ever. Jon did what he had wanted to do for months now. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Elias’s. Elias stiffened, apparently he did not know where the situation was going, after all. Jon pulled away slightly before kissing Elias again. More passionately and more hungrily. Elias started kissing back and Jon took that as a signal to keep going. He put his hands on the other man’s waist and turned him to sit on the desk. Elias pushed everything off the desk behind him and paper and pencils and files that were probably quite important fell across the floor. Elias was now sitting on his desk, kissing his Archivist fiercely. Jon’s hands were on his waist and his hands were on Jon’s shoulders. Jon’s hands were slowly slipping lower and Elias caught them in his own. This is where he drew the line. He lightly pushed Jon away and took a deep breath.

“We can finish this later. Get back to work Jonathan.” Jon takes a deep breath as well and nods. He straightens out his tie and shirt and smooths out his skirt before walking to the door. He opens the door and stops. He turns around and smiles at Elias.

“Thank you, Mr. Bouchard.”

“You are quite welcome, Mr. Sims,” Elias replies. As Jon walks out the door, closes it, and walks down the hallway, Elias looks over the changes he had made to Jonathan's files. His Archivist. He can’t wait to see what Jon will become.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's on jonelias


	2. martin and peter have to share a bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> martin and peter have to share a bed yessir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for implied abuse  
> no this isn't me projecting haha no why would you think that??

“I’m sorry, sirs, we only have one room available.” The receptionist’s voice cut through Martin’s thoughts as he was pulled back to reality. 

“That’s fine.” Peter’s voice came from beside him and Martin remembered where they were. They had gotten off of The Tundra after six weeks and were staying in a little motel before the day-long drive back to the institute. 

“Alright,” the woman said as Peter paid for the last room in the motel. He used institute funds, Martin noticed, telling himself he was just curious to see Peter pay for something after spending six weeks (six!) aboard a ship. The woman handed Peter the key and Peter started walking, leaving Martin scrambling to grab his things, saying a quick ‘thank you’ to the woman at the reception desk, before running after Peter.

The room was small, only having enough room for one relatively normal-sized bed. Martin dragged his bags into the room and sat on the bed. It was softer than the beds that were on the Tundra and Martin laid down, melting into the bed. Peter sat down on the bed as well and just sat there.

Martin whispered a quiet “I’m going to shower” before gathering his toiletries and a new change of clothes. He went into the bathroom and made sure to lock the door behind him. Once inside the bathroom, he stripped and looked at himself in the mirror. He also took the moment to stretch his torso after being in his binder all day. He stepped into the shower, letting the water run over him. It was nice, the hot water and not having to feel the constant sway of a ship beneath his feet, but left him feeling like he was missing something. When he was done, he put his fresh set of clothes and his old binder back on. He didn’t try to dry his hair much, it was far too dried out and would become incredibly frizzy if he did. Martin walked out of the bathroom and tried to ignore Peter’s gaze on him. He put his things back where they belonged and sat on the bed. He pulled out his phone and looked at what he’d missed. One new message. It was from Basira and said that Jon still wasn’t awake. Martin sighed. He hummed as he scrolled mindlessly through Twitter, waiting for his hair to dry so he could go to sleep. After about an hour, he deemed his hair dry enough to lay down. He was putting his phone away when Peter spoke up.

“I’ll be back.” Peter said. Before Martin could reply, he heard the sound of static and Peter was gone. Martin, on his side of the bed, laid down, curled into a ball and tried to fall asleep. He really did try, he chased sleep for all he was, but never caught it. He heard Peter come back a couple hours later. His heavy steps from the door to the corner he’d put his bags in, to the bathroom, to his bags again, to the bed. Martin laid there, perfectly still, as Peter clambered onto the bed. He faced towards Martin, he knew, because he could feel Peter’s icy breath on the back of his neck.

“Martin.” Peter’s voice rang out in the silence. “Martin, I know you’re not asleep.” Martin was silent for a moment before making his usual humming noise. Peter didn’t reply. It was a while before either of them spoke. Martin didn’t know how long exactly, but it felt like a long time, a couple hours maybe.

“Martin,” came Peter’s voice again. “Martin, are you wearing a binder right now?” Martin went rigid. He was, in fact, wearing a binder, but there was no reason Peter would know that.

“No,” Martin replied. Peter made a sound, like he was clicking his tongue.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I am not.”  
“Yes, you are, Martin.”

“No, I am not wearing a binder, Peter.” Peter didn't say anything. They lay in silence for ten seconds.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Forty.

“Okay, yes I am. Is that what you want to hear?” Martin said, exasperated.

“You need to take it off, Martin.” Peter’s voice was stern.

“What? I do not.”

“Yes, you do. Binding while sleeping can be very dangerous, I’m sure you know that.”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Don’t try to argue with me about this, Martin. It is very dangerous.” There was a moment of silence. “I’ll turn around, too, if that makes you feel better.” Martin sighed before getting out of bed and walking into the tiny bathroom.

He took off his shirt and then pulled off his binder. He turned around and looked at his back in the mirror. See, Martin wore a binder for two reasons. One, the reason anyone wore a binder, to make his chest look more flat. And two, his back was covered in scars from his mother hitting him with whatever was available. The binder was the perfect length to cover the scars and when Martin was wearing it, he could almost forget about them. Almost. And now, he couldn’t just forget about them for the night. They were thick, raised, white lines all across his back, and they weren’t something someone could just forget about, even only for a night. Martin sighed again and put his shirt back on. He took one last look at himself in the mirror and walked out of the bathroom.

He put his binder in one of his bags before getting back into bed. He faced away from Peter, eyes fixed on the wall as he curled into a ball again and tried to sleep. Surely, the small chance that Peter could make out the shapes of his scars in the dark was better than facing him. He could still feel Peter’s cold breath on the back of his neck, though, making him unable to forget that he wasn’t alone on the bed.

Martin was just about to slip into sleep when he felt something on his back. He tried hard not to move at all, though the gasp he let out was probably audible in the otherwise silent room. He almost let out another gasp when he realized what it was. It was Peter. Peter was tracing the scars on his back through his thin shirt. It was strange. No one had even touched Martin in weeks, maybe months, and no one had ever touched his scars, save for himself, when he would try to reach around and scratch them when they were itchy. When they were new. And certainly no one had touched him the way Peter was right now. So gentle and caring and, and, and kind. It was nice. Martin, against his will, leaned into the touch, just a little. Peter gasped and Martin heard sharp static and Peter was gone. He had probably thought Martin was asleep.

“It’s alright, Peter,” Martin spoke to the now empty room. He waited for a reply that never came. “Good night.” Martin closed his eyes and finally, finally, sleep came to him.

When he woke up in the morning, Peter was making two cups of tea. When Martin got out of bed, he just about ran to where he had set his binder last night, grabbed it and dashed into the bathroom. He emerged a few minutes later. Neither of them said anything as they drank their tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> were not going to talk about the fact that peter is making a cup of tea without hot water.  
> also you can find me on tumbr @ mag-fuller!


End file.
